


Fix the Sky a Little

by heinrichfrei



Category: Moon (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heinrichfrei/pseuds/heinrichfrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam looks at the photographs of Tess and Eve plastered all over the sterile white walls, and feels lonelier than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fix the Sky a Little

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brandytook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandytook/gifts).



i.

having done all you can, you head back to the sleeping quarters, allegedly a sanctuary, now the incubator of self-conjured nightmares while he sleeps under those sheets that are supposedly yours, but his to claim rightfully for he has been using them for almost three years. he shivers, and it is not delicate; full body-rocking tremors are being inflicted upon his entire system. you wonder what is he dreaming of. tess? eve? the scent of freshly-cut grass on earth? the launch of helium-3 tanks back to their terran base, along with the desperate loneliness of wanting to be the passenger on that journey back home? misplaced jealousy?

he curls up, foetus-like, trying to defend himself even in his dreams, and you look away, disillusioned.

ii.

the idea of meeting yourself is almost ludicrous. in the midst of all these feelings, the oddest is that of fear. not a fear that this clone will pose a physical threat to you, but a psychological one instead. who are you, and how sure are you that you are you and he is not you? and if he is him and you are you, who is living the life the way the real you should be? what and who is real? and even if you are him and he is you and the both of you are both real and fake, his actions denote a possibility that you will walk his path, and your actions a possibility of him walking down your path. it is as naked and vulnerable as one can be - it is not a question of science and the ethics of cloning, but of the simple affirmation of identity and _being_. and seeing the battered man sleeping under those sheets, his blood - your blood - staining the white with red, is the most honest proof that you are no soldier, that you are susceptible to breaking, to falling apart, that you are not as strong as you think you are, and that by the end of this three-year contract, you will be just like him - a quivering, miserable mess.

you look at the photographs of tess and eve plastered all over the sterile white walls, and feel lonelier than ever.

iii.

suddenly you feel angry at him, because he is the living proof of your darkest fears.

iv.

vaguely you recall a month ago, when you were a young brash astronaut and tess, your young wife, was holding your newborn, the sun kissing her skin as the both of you listened to the waves crashing on the californian shore. you were living on the perimeters of the american dream, standing outside that white picket fence looking in. idly you fingered the edges of a new contract with lunar industries. three years as a miner on the dark side of the moon, operating the sarang base. no vacation, no nothing. three years, and then you would be back. you hesitated, still standing outside that white picket fence, and you felt tess tugging your hand. "there is no need to do this if you don't want to." you looked at eve sleeping peacefully in the embrace of her mother, and your chest tightened. "i have to. it is good for us. we need the money to raise eve, and give her the chance she deserves."

v.

gerty tells of an accident, hence the pockets of missing memories. they feel like black holes - the deeper you sink your hands into them, the more bottomless they feel, and the more captivating they get as they suck you in forcefully. curiosity kills not only the cat, but the curious clone.

vi.

you remember the night you boarded the spaceship. "whenever i look up at the moon, i''ll be seeing you." you wanted to correct her and say that she would never be able to see you, because the only side of the moon that faces the earth is the lighted side, and never the dark. but somehow you wished the planetary laws would collapse and that for once, when she looked up into the heavens, it would be you she sees.

vii.

everything collapses, and it is not universal laws - it is that of your own universe as you realise all these memories are implanted, and the only thing that is real is the breathing of the older clone in the room, the rhythm to the sharp sigh you exhale in dejection. you scoot closer, sitting on the floor beside the bed, facing him. his face is lined with exhaustion, even in sleep, as he continues to battle inner demons. you begin to wonder about the grander forces at play - the ones who condemn the both of you to this fate. he looks like you, and he has been here prior to your arrival. on principle, you hate him because it seems most likely that he is the original sam bell, and you are the clone. or it could be simply that all of you are clones, and the original is back on earth, with tess, with eve, with the completion-of-contract money that will be enough to see eve through her college years. or perhaps tess and eve are all fabrications, and there is no sam bell. all of you could have been bred in test tubes. is it even possible? you ransack your mind, desperate to recall fragments of things you read in science publications and biology classes.

he looks just like you, and you wonder why you cannot accept the simple possibility - or truth - that you are his clone. he has been nothing but civil to you - nice, even - and you have been harsh. shamefully you recall your dismissal of his simple request for a handshake. he does not deserve that, not from you. his fingers peek out beneath the covers, dirty and bloodied. who are you to deny him a simple affirmation of humanity? quietly you touch his cold fingers, and shake them gently. "hello," you whisper.

viii.

faintly you hear the echoes of the main computer forewarning the arrival of eliza in six hours. as much as the both of you refuse to talk about what it means when eliza arrives, there is a tacit understanding that you will both not survive. and perhaps it is in the face of this impending death that one clings harder to hope. your finger touches the dried blood on his bottom lip. if tess and eve are your lies, he should be given the truth. he has endured almost three years in silence, in the barren isolation of the dark side of the moon, his story untold, his loneliness unheard, with the exception of his pet plants and gerty, and it is only fair he goes home, and you to remain. eliza will expect a dead clone in the crashed rover, another to be in healthy condition in the base. your mind goes from a brisk jog to a full run. there is no time. a delivery of helium-3 is expected in six hours, about the same time as eliza's estimated time of arrival. this time, earth will not receive its source of energy, but it will welcome back its own survivor.

for the first time since you woke up in the infirmary, you feel alive.

ix.

you stand up, about to leave. but before you do, you look at him - one last chance to truly look, to study him, to study yourself - or a possibility of yourself. the other sam - the possibly-real sam, the possibly-clone sam, the simply-just-another sam - is a humbling reminder that you, should you stay and live your three years here, you may end up just like him - driven out of sanity, desperate, lonely, broken. he is not the sam bell you remember in your false memories - the one who proudly climbed on board his spaceship, the one who gave his daughter one final look and the promise of a better tomorrow, the one who was embraced keenly by his teary-eyed wife before he left. but he is sam bell nonetheless.

gently you touch his cheek, and chastely kiss him on the lips. "you're going home."

x.

but when it is you who is tucked in the delivery craft heaving towards mother earth, you cry.


End file.
